Elena Rivers
Elena stood by the window, the city humming softly beneath her. Lights blinked like stars grounded to earth, and somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed—faint, fleeting. The world moved on, and yet she felt like she was suspended in a place where time had paused just for her.
Her fingers traced the edge of the photo on her desk—one she had once tucked away, but now kept close. It was a grainy shot from university. She, laughing mid-bite. Damien, scowling at the camera. Christopher blurry in the background. So much before packed into one still image.
She thought of Damien.
Of his eyes, dark as ink but always watching her like she was a fire he couldn't help stepping into.
Of his voice, the way it softened only for her.
Of the night she'd almost lost herself… and the morning she realized she never truly had herself to begin with.
He had broken her in ways no one ever had.
But he had also revealed the cracks she'd never dared to look at.
When she remembered him now, it wasn't just the touch of obsession or the taste of pain. It was everything in between. The silence after a kiss. The rage that came from fear. The love that bled from wounds neither of them knew how to tend.
Christopher had offered her peace. But Damien had made her confront the war inside her.
And now, carrying a piece of both their stories inside her womb, Elena wondered: could pain and healing coexist? Could she write an ending that wasn't about escape or surrender—but choice?
The dawn pressed softly at the horizon, casting the room in grey light.
She whispered to no one, "I'm not who I was… but I'm not yet who I want to be either."
And with that, Elena closed her eyes—letting the quiet speak for her.
Tomorrow, she would decide.
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